


The Ocean of the Mind and the Messages it Holds

by R_Quarion



Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24066913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_Quarion/pseuds/R_Quarion
Summary: During his interrogation by Cole and Roy, Jack's brain was screaming a name unmentioned.Courtney.
Relationships: Jack Kelso/Courtney Sheldon
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	The Ocean of the Mind and the Messages it Holds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [L.A. Noire Discord Server](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=L.A.+Noire+Discord+Server).



During his interrogation by Cole and Roy, Jack's brain was screaming a name unmentioned.  _ Courtney _ . Rage was bubbling within Jack at so many things. At Cole and the way he had taken Jack from the front of his apartment complex. At the way Cole had tried small talk as if they were pals. At the way Cole was earning more fame and glory. At the way he himself was sat across from a former marine, being watched over by his shitheel partner, as if he was a criminal. 

So why, within all of this, was Jack thinking about Courtney?

Their interactions since Okinawa had been few. Jack had helped him out of a troublesome spot with Cohen and the morphine peddling. That interaction in itself had been beyond complex. The thing about Courtney was that Jack couldn’t ever say  _ no _ . Jack would prefer he live the remainder of his life detached to his memory of the war. Saying far, far away from Cole and Courtney, rebuilding himself from the ground up. 

Yet, despite that, there he was sitting in the Hollywood central station being interrogated. Jack was a man of his words. He had helped Courtney get out of the peddling. Neither of them had any blame to take and so, he would protect Courtney as he always had. 

_ Or, in reality, as Courtney had always protected him.  _

Okinawa was not something Jack remembered in vivid stimulus. Shades were incorrect, distances and depth were vague, but events seemed to stick with him. Specifically, Courtney shooting Cole. It was in that exact moment that he became overwhelmingly interested in Courtney. 

That night, all those years ago, Jack had pulled Courtney to the side. Away from the group, grabbing him by the collar, ducking into a darkness that obscured them.    
"Courtney." Jack had whispered, his tone drawing Courtney in more than he intended. "Why…?"   
Courtney's eyes were glazing over with tears within a second,   
"The Lieutenant is a fucking shitheel!" He hissed, teeth gritted. "Hypocrisy and double fucking standards!"    
"I know, Courtney---"   
"I had to shoot him, I  _ had _ to!" The words were getting distorted by a looming sense of existentialism. 

"Shh, shhhh…" Jack whispered, pulling Courtney close. Their foreheads resting against each other as they breathed in unison. Moving to sit down among the dirt and stones, Jack took Courtney with him. Resting Courtney's head to his lap, Jack continued to hush lightly. Hands slowly trailing through Courtney's short hair, fingers being as light as they could as Courtney sobbed. His hands grasping at the fabric of Jack's shirt, he desperately whispered,

_ "Oh, god… what have I done…?" _

Jack didn't know what to say. Words hadn’t been his forte during the war. How could they be? When words could be silenced by a single pull of a trigger. He’d seen his fellow men, his friends, killed. Everything they could have been, wiped out in a split second. As much as rage bubbled within Jack at everything Cole was, he was glad Courtney’s shot hadn’t killed him. He thought of a reality without Cole and it seemed  _ wrong _ . As much as Cole made Jack grind his teeth in frustration.

“Come on, Courtney.” Jack kept a low tone, taking his hand and moving it to his lower stomach. “You know the drill…”   
Trembling beneath him, Jack’s heart ached. Courtney didn’t say anything but whimpered, trying to slow his breathing as Jack counted the second intervals. Eventually he rested in Jack’s lap with slow breaths, eyes stained red with sticky tears and the only shivering was from the cold. Jack continued to trail his fingers through Courtney’s hair beneath the silvery moonlight.

Courtney had taught Jack that technique originally. The first time Jack had come limping back with a bullet wound, or two, his body was in a state of indescribable shock. Exhausted from blood loss, trembling in adrenaline, hyperventilating while out of breath. Having Jack sit down, hold his hands over his stomach, breathing while counting in five second intervals. Somehow, by a miracle, it had worked a charm. It calmed Jack enough for Courtney to turn his attention to the wounds. And what precise attention he had paid. 

Each stitch had been threaded with care. It was as if Courtney could find his entire life purpose within these wounds. Exposed flesh drawing out that which drove him. Just short of breath, Jack had whispered,   
"This is the most still I've ever seen you…"    
No impatient twitching or constant frowning. Instead, Courtney's eyes had been exact in their movement and clearer than the most pure crystals. The man was a hell of a medic, that was without a doubt in mind. 

"It's important I get these stitches right, Kelso." He bit his lip, brushing beading blood away with a cloth and slowly pushing the hook of the needle into the flesh once more.    
"Wh-  _ ow, _ why?" Of course there was the logical reason as to why. That answer didn't need to be said. There was something more hiding behind Courtney's attitude.   
"Every stitch is like…" he threaded the needle through again, Jack winced, "shutting a part of all of this away. I close these wounds, maybe, your skin won't have to bear the burden of this war…"

Courtney took a moment to look at Jack. At this time of night, with the sun far from rising, the shadows were cast perfectly against the older man. Cheekbones and jaw of almost defined to perfection. As much as it took to admit, he  _ hated  _ seeing Jack in pain. He'd do anything to fix it, to fix  _ any  _ of it. 

"Didn't realise you're a poet, Doc." Jack chuckled to himself, eyes flickering to Courtney's lips as he chuckled, "...although, the sentiment is beautiful…"   
Jack trailed the backs of his fingers over Courtney's cheek, humming lightly and relishing everything.   
"You're the only thing I can think of that's more beautiful…" Jack whispered without realising he had. The expression that washed over Courtney was one he'd never forget. Mouth popping open softly in awe and cheeks being sinking into red hue. 

Jack would have liked to have said he’d kissed Courtney then and there. But the war was a different time. Where repression ran rampant and bottles filled to the brim with unspoken messages were cast into the oceans of their own minds. 

It was now, sitting before Cole and his asshat partner that Jack’s bottles were washing back to shore. Haunted by messages never dealt with, watching his own memories as if they were a play. He’d kill the director of his life story, if given the opportunity. Rewrite his own script with a pen filled with blood. In his mind he was staring down the man who he had been so desperate to hide. Seeing Cole was one thing. Hearing him with Roy was another. The worst part of it all was that Roy seemed to  _ know _ . The looks he gave Cole, the backhanded flirting, the man was an arrogant fruit in a position of power. Roy had both Cole and Jack exactly where he wanted them. But Roy was an issue for another time. 

_ “One of Mickey Cohen’s goons had emptied about sixty BAR rounds into the bus he was driving.” _

There it was, again, the thought of Courtney. Felix was a good man and Jack made a mental note to go and see him. To talk to him, make sure he was okay. Yet, there was fear running through Jack. What in the  _ hell _ had Courtney gotten himself into..? Hand resting lightly on his own stomach, Jack counted those five seconds.  _ In. Hold. Out.  _ Like precision clockwork, mechanisms playing out perfectly. 

Jack would see Courtney. He  _ had _ to. It was an urge much like the feeling of hunger, beast-like and vicious. There was his own voice buried deep within himself that scolded him.  _ You should never have opened those bottles, Jack.  _ It said, as if haunting him. Because scribbled on one of the pages was a reality he refused to admit in Okinawa, and he still refused to admit as he sat before a ghost from his past. Words, in blood. 

_ You love the medic.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Help i love them  
> maybe ill write a follow up idk


End file.
